A warrior remembers
by kstefan88
Summary: Long after the Organization's downfall Tabitha remembers a story that she never wanted to tell. But still, it had to be told - for her comrades to not be forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes

_DISCLAIMER:_

Claymore, in its entirety, belongs to Norihiro Yagi

Everything I did with the characters of Claymore belongs to me

_What is this going to be?_

The Organization had fallen a very long time before. Ever since the remaining warriors had fought to keep the continent they lived on at peace. Now, more than eighty years after the Organization's downfall, only a few warriors are left. One of them, Tabitha, decided to write down her memoirs.

* * *

The clouds where hanging in the skies heavily, as if they were about to fall onto the earth in their entirety. It was a typical sight around that time of the year to the most people – it was fall, after all. Still, there were people who connected the sight to behold, the sky gave at that moment, to another event in the past. Two of them, to be precise.

One of them had just finished writing down a story of the time as she still was young. She put the feather she had used to write aside, waited for the words she had written to dry and then carefully put the paper they were written on into a leather wrapper that already contained countless stories like that one. She put the wrapper into the only lockable drawer of her desk. Besides a few old letters, maps, a few decorations and a photo album there was nothing else in it.

The latter was one of the greatest treasures she had. After photography was invented, photographing had become one of her greatest hobbies. She snapped nearly everything: flowers, sunsets, rainbows, animals (even though they rarely waited long enough to be properly exposed), landscapes and suchlike. What she enjoyed photographing the most, though, were her fellow warriors.

As she beheld the album that for a long time had gotten no additions, she gently let the fingers of her left hand fondle it. A whole lot of memories suddenly filled her mind. Some happy, some sad, some exciting, some frightening but still a faint smile appeared on her face. She took it out of the drawer, closed and locked the latter and sat down in a dark brown leather armchair that was placed in front of her room's chimney.

For a single person's study the room surely was spacy. The moment one entered it through its heavy, creaky door that was made out of a cherry trees wood, a three meters high, nearly squarish room of about thirty square meters unfolded before him. Finest parquet of a pattern so complex that one would think it was irregular formed the floor, all four walls were covered with big, planar wooden pieces out of pine wood up to two thirds of their height, having their upper third painted in a dark orange tone, the wall at the opposite of the door made the room bright at nearly every time of the day due to the two windows of lordly build, and the old chimney in the middle of the wall left to the entrance always gave the room a comfortable warmth – physically as well as emotionally.

All in all the room emitted a dark warmth due to all the earth-colored fitments inside of it, despite being bright nearly all day. A lot of portraits its inhabitant had made herself were seaming the right wall as well the wall the entrance was in. In front of the right window there stood the desk that its owner spent the most of her time at. Papers, ink bottles, feathers, pencils and rubbers lay all over it.

Right of the right window there was a glass cabinet, containing a broadsword of a good meter's length. A symbol was engraved in it, a symbol, that – long before – was the only thing that represented the name of the one bearing it. That sword's symbol consisted of three vertical lines, the one in the middle being about twice as long as the other two, who were crossed in the middle by a horizontal line.

In between the two windows there was an old grandfather clock, about the age of its owner – nearly 110 years. Four small and eight heavy gongs of said clock told the resident of the room that it was teatime. She arose out of her armchair and, giving it one last gentle stroke, put the album she had just taken out of its drawer back to not miss the tea with her oldest friend.

* * *

As she entered the room she and her old friend always drank their eight o'clock tea together, she found her friend already sitting at the small, round table in the middle of it. A dude of butler stood close to the tea-cart, resting his left hand on its handle and having a cloth rest on his right arm.

"Welcome, Lady Tabitha. General Miria is already awaiting you. Please take your seat," the butler formally welcomed Tabitha, slightly bowing down.

Miria, who sat next to where the butler, an old man of high grandeur was standing, gently put her left hand on the butlers right arm, and, directing her gaze towards him, softly said: "How often do I have to tell you, Jacob? I am no longer part of the military. Just 'Lady Miria' is fine."

Jacob bowed down again to apologize, but added: "I think a person should not only be honored or contemned for what she is doing but also for what she was doing, General Miria."

Miria had to smile at that. Letting out a faint but audible snicker she asked him: "There is no way to change you, is there?"

"I fear there is not, General Miria," he honestly replied.

Tabitha then, smiling, too, sat herself down on the archaic appearing chair, similar to the one Miria sat on, at the opposite of the table. For a long time it was that hour of the week that had brought her the most delighting moments. Together with her former Captain and General she always used to talk about the past and the rumors regarding their comrades who were still alive. In general, their talks never were very different from the topics older people have nowadays, despite the fact that the both of them had led a live filled with blood, forgo and pain.

After the both of them had smiled at each other for a few moments, Tabitha directed her gaze towards Jacob, who, ready to take any order, waited for one of "his Ladies" to speak up, and asked him: "What have you prepared for today, my dear Jacob?"

That was everything he had waited for: serving Lady Miria and Lady Tabitha had been everything he had lived for for nearly forty years. During that time he had learned very quickly all his Ladies preferences and dislikes, as well as traits and quirks. Since it was the third October, he, of course, had simply prepared a mere fruit tea as well as _Donauwelle_, a chocolate-covered cake with vanilla pudding and sour cherries.

After he had served both of the former warriors, he plainly asked if he could be of any further service. Miria then just told him that he might go to his room for then but that he had to be prepared for further wishes of her and Tabitha. He simply bowed and left the room, leaving the tea cart behind, knowing, that his Ladies would help themselves, if necessary.

Putting just a single sugar cube into her tea, like a friend of them always had done it, Tabitha, without stirring her tea, took the first, careful sip of it. So did Miria. Both of them didn't like the aroma of fruit tea that much but it was a special day, after all.

After enjoying a piece of her _Donauwelle_, Tabitha asked her former Major: "Why is it, that she never stirred her tea after putting sugar in it?"

Miria was about to taste her piece of cake, too, but had to put down the dessert fork it was on for a bit. She slightly smiled and, having a bit of a sad look, she asked, while looking onto the table: "You've been asking that question for more than seventy years now. And For more than seventy years I've constantly been answering you. Why is it, that you want to hear that answer every year anew?"

While gently squashing the second piece of _Donauwelle_ with her tongue, Tabitha had to think about that question herself. After spreading the sour as well as sweet taste of the cake throughout her mouth, she came to the conclusion that she had forgotten the answer to that question a long time ago. So she just told Miria that she liked to hear the reason.

"Well then," the latter began her explanation, after taking another sip of her tea, "she never was a friend of tea. She always found that it was too bitter. She didn't like sweet things, either, so just pouring sugar into the tea also was no way to make her like it. Then, however, her foster-daughter made tea for her, knowing already, that her foster-mother didn't like tea because of its bitterness. She chose a fruit tea and even poured sugar into it. However, she forgot to stir it. And the rest is history."

Tabitha took another sip of her own tea. She remembered that evening as well as if she had been there herself. It was the twenty-eighth of September, the evening before Clarice went on a mission without Miata for the first time, 'and the last time,' she mused touched. She remembered that Miata also had tried to bake Clarice's favorite cake, _Donauwelle_. It didn't resemble it much, however.

She was torn out of her thoughts by Miria, who asked her: "Have you ever written about them?"

With that question Tabitha's smile vanished and her face's look turned honest. She rose her gaze to meet Miria's and, with a low voice, said: "Whenever it is the third of October, I think about it. But whenever I think about what exactly happened, I fret. I feel uneasy about writing _that_ down."

Silence. The both of them ate, suddenly dully, their pieces of cake. They remembered very well what had happened more than seventy years ago. And even though that topic came up every third of October, none of them was really able to talk about it openly.

Still, it was part of their history – an important part at that. Taking the last sip of her tea, Tabitha suddenly declared: "It has been seventy-five years now. Maybe you are right. They must not be forgotten. Their story has to be told."

With that she arose, half an hour too early, and directed her steps towards the door. As she touched its knob, she paused, to ask Miria: "Are you free this evening?"

"Yes," her former Captain stated.

"Please come to my study afterwards. And please ask Jacob to bring us Gin. It is going to be a long night."

That being said Tabitha left the room, leaving Miria behind. 'It has been a long time,' she mused, 'since she invited me on a drink. It is going to be an interesting night, I assume.'

Taking the little bell from the tea chart she rung it to call for her loyal butler, Jacob.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes

_DISCLAIMER:_

Claymore, in its entirety, belongs to Norihiro Yagi

Everything I did with the characters of Claymore belongs to me

* * *

The black clouds that were hanging had begun to pour their contents onto the ground in an outpour that seemed like millions of waterfalls hitting the holy city of Rabona that could be seen from the windows of Tabitha's study. The ground of the hills, forests and valleys around the town had turned muddy withing minutes. Even the ways of the estate she and her best friend lived on, though being made of a more solid material, didn't look very inviting for a walk anymore.

Jacob, their loyal butler, had to be worried about the flowers – his most important duty and love, after his Ladies, of course – was what she had figured.

* * *

Miria was approaching the door to Tabitha's study. The clicking sound of the heels of her black shoes echoed through the hallway that, no matter, how often Miria passed it, never seemed to get old to her. Lit by the brilliant light of the chandeliers that were hung there every twelve meters, one could spend endless times again and again to see all the portraits, trophies, honors and other, small and big, unimposing and outstanding wonders the long life Tabitha had led had collected. It was her wing, after all, and since she had found the plain ochroid color of the walls boring, she had decided to decorate it with whatever she found interesting. Most of the things were portraits of the warriors and their families, some of them even drawn by herself.

Miria never tired of regarding all the many things there and, soon after Tabitha had started to collect nearly everything, started to do that, too. She was caught in her friend's collection so much, that she didn't even notice that she had already reached the door and was a bit startled, as the latter opened in front of her.

A gentle smile of Tabitha instantly caught her attention and took the fright from her.

"Being absorbed into all that old stuff again, I assume?" she was warmly greeted by Tabitha, who invited her in.

Tabitha closed the door as soon as Miria had passed it as the latter took a look around in the room she hadn't seen for quite a bit of time. 'Whatever that means at my age,' she mused smiling.

Taking a few steps towards the room's center, the naked ceiling caught her attention. Every last corner of Tabitha's room was decorated despite the ceiling.

"Still have no intentions to arrange the chandelier you got for you eightieth birthday?" the slightly older woman asked her friend while staring at the ceiling.

Tabitha, who had, nearly unnoticed by Miria, placed herself behind her, gently let her hands slide around the latter's waist and rested her chin on Miria's right shoulder. With a quiet voice she whispered: "But I don't need it, Miria-darling. This room is bright all day, and when it is night I have the chimney's warming fire and more than enough candles. And, by the way," she paused for a bit, took Miria's right hand and directed it towards Rabona, "I could not see the beautiful lights of the city, if the room were too bright."

"He," Miria snickered, "there is also no changing you, is there?"

"I fear there is not, General Miria," she replied, imitating Jacob's way to talk as well as his voice, much to Miria's amusement.

Both of them giggled, as strong knocks were promising the arrival of the both woman's drink. After having calmed down a bit – and after having brought some distance between the two of them – Tabitha said: "Come in!"

Without delay, Jacob entered, the tea cart in front of him. On the cart there were placed three glasses, a bottle of gin older than Miria, as well as a vessel of purest silver, filled with icecubes.

"Good evening General Miria, Lady Tabitha," he greeted them, while slightly bowing towards each of them and moving the tea cart in front of the armchair that was standing in front of the chimney. A fire of friendly warmth and luminance was already jollily dancing around in it, making crackling and sizzling sounds.

After Tabitha had gotten her greatest treasure – a photo album, bound in fir green leather, the women both took place in Tabitha's armchair – the latter in it, Miria on Tabitha's lap. Jacob, as if it went without saying, got the chair from Tabitha's desk, placed it semi right of the dark armchair and began preparing their drinks. Two glasses he charged with two cubes of ice, the third one with three cubes of ice. Directly afterwards he poured every one of them a Gin and handed the glass with three icecubes over to Miria, took one of the other two himself and let the third one remain standing in its place, knowing, that Lady Tabitha would help herself.

After taking the first sip of Gin, Jacob knowingly stated: "A fine vintage, indeed, but no comparison to the one from thirty years ago," and after a short pause he also added: "and of course no comparison to my two ladies here."

"But Jacob," Miria said with played indignation, stemming her right hand into her waist, "what do you think you are saying here?" Tabitha had to giggle on that.

Jacob, totally keeping his cool, convincingly stated: "But General Miria, you should know better than to suspect me of indelicate talk. Of course I meant to say, that out of all the people out there, you are my favorite ones to spend my time with. No one else has such a rich pool of experiences to share as the two of you."

At that, both Miria and Tabitha had to snicker for a bit. Of course they knew what qualities Jacob cherished about them. Even though they would never take amiss any other interest he might have had in them – after all, he was a man at service of two ladies that, due to both of them having lived for more than a hundred years each, still looked like they were in their early twenties.

Tabitha then opened the album, took out a folded paper and closed it again. She unfolded the paper to reveal an erasure she had done herself a long time before, eighty-one years, to be precise. She always called it a sketch due to it not fulfilling any standards of art. Miria, however, found it to be one of the most beautiful portraits that Tabitha had ever made. The both of them, as well as Jacob, regarded it for a while.

The latter then broke the silence to reveal a question that he had since the first time he saw that picture: "Ladies, if I may ask, you always regard this one picture on every third of October. Still, you never say a word about it. Please excuse, if I seem brisk now, but you always turn melancholic after seeing it. May I ask the reason for that?"

The picture basically showed nothing more than a young family. A young man in plain clothes, a woman wearing a warriors uniform, as well as a girl around the age of twelve, wearing nothing but a white dress. However, holding her parents hands, she looked like the happiest girl on earth.

While still looking at the erasure made by herself, Tabitha explained: "After we, under the command of Captain Miria, had brought down the Organization, we began to purge the island. We wanted every monster that still was left to vanish, to never allow them to return. Roughly six months after the Organization's defeat, a fellow warrior of us, Clarice, found herself a man – and therefore a father for her foster-daughter."

"The three persons on that picture, I assume?" Jacob asked.

"Yes. Still, even though the three of them look happy in this picture, fate had not planned for them to actually be happy," she answered him.

Musingly Jacob took another sip of his Gin. He knew that the comrades of his Ladies never had an easy life, so them having a tragic story didn't seem so surprising to him. Still, he could see in his Ladies' eyes, that that story was different from the ones he had heard before.

Tabitha folded the picture again, put it back into the album and finally took a whole mouthful of her Gin, too, downing it in one swig. For a moment she had her eyes closed, letting the taste refresh her spirits. Asking for seconds, she told them: "What I want to tell the two of you today, is a story that only I still know about in detail. It is something I do not really want to speak about but still it is part of the past of us warriors. It must not be forgotten."

After pausing for a bit, she directed her gaze towards Jacob, who had already refilled her glass, and, with honesty in her eyes and voice, asked of him: "Dear Jacob. I want you to remember every last word of what I am going to tell the both of you now. I may never bring myself to writing it down. I do not plan on leaving this earth soon, but still I don't know if I will be able to write about the events regarding Miata. So, if worse comes to worst, I want you, my dear Jacob, to write down the story that I never wanted to tell – to keep the memories of us warriors alive."

Jacob felt honored. Never before Tabitha had asked him to bear her memories in case she wasn't able to write them down. He knew that keeping the knowledge about her comrades and their trials alive was the most important thing to her – most likely the only thing that kept her alive. For her, to entrust such an important task to him, he had never been given such an important task in his entire life.

After having made his decision, he honestly told her with his deep, strong voice: "I will, Lady Tabitha. No event on earth will make me forget your wish!"

"Very well," Lady Tabitha said, took a sip of her second Gin, and began to tell the story of Miata.

* * *

Eighty-two years ago, in the vast lands of the east, led by our Captain, we were, miraculously, able to bring the Organization, the curse of this lands, to its knees. After we also freed Clare, you may vaguely remember her, Jacob, and defeated Priscilla, our greatest trial began. We had a whole continent full of Yoma and Awakened Beings to purge before we thought to finally be able to live in peace. The aftermath is another story, however.

Nevertheless, not all of us traveled the lands to slay the remaining dangers. A few of us stayed in Rabona to protect it, some other settled as soon as they had found a nice place to stay. Mostly that were the former trainees, who, by and large, weren't able to deal with those monsters to begin with.

Two of the warriors to remain in Rabona were Clarice and her foster-daughter Miata. The latter was a mentally unstable girl of eleven years that had to have underwent things only the heavens know about. Clarice was the person she desperately clung on; making contact with other people was nearly impossible to her. Clarice knew, that, even, if she was just a guard, it was not unlikely for her to lose her life when an attack would come. Who would take care of Miata, then?

The solution to that problem came more or less by chance: as she was asked to order two dozens of armor for new recruits, she, of course, took Miata with her. Rabona's blacksmith at that time, a skilled man of high experience, was the one who should take care of that matter. However, due to an accident he was not able to work and so his assistant, a young lad of around twenty years was the one to take the guard's order. As Clarice herself told me a few weeks later, they got along instantly and, what even more was to her surprise, even Miata seemed to like him and vice versa.

Sooner or later one thing led to another and, half a year after the Organization's fall, Clarice and Torben, the blacksmith's assistant, married. It was a big event and nearly every warrior was there. It also was a first-timer, because never before a warrior had contracted the holy bond of matrimony.

Everything was great for the three of them, you could say. For Miata it was probably the most peaceful time of her life. However, things don't always go smoothly.

* * *

There Tabitha paused to down the remainders of her second Gin. Miria also had finished her drink.

Jacob instantly replaced the molten ice as well as the Gin and lectured the women: "Ladies, a Gin this old is a drink to savor!"

Miria, with a monotone voice, replied: "Says the one who once drank eight beer in a row, followed by a whole bottle of Brandy and an aged wine. Within three hours."

Ignoring Tabitha's giggles on that, he, not losing focus of his work, plainly stated: "You are able to do, what you are able to do."

After Miria's and Tabitha's glasses were refilled – and Tabitha had taken the next sip already – she continued her story.

* * *

The joy of this young family was not supposed to last very long. After a group of warriors died during the attempt of destroying a secret laboratory of the Organization in the northern lands of Alphonse due to the sheer masses of Yoma there, Miria, meanwhile General of Rabona's military, decided to dispatch a larger group of warriors to once and for all take care of that huge Yoma nest.

The day of depart was the twenty-ninth of October. Clarice was one of the warriors chosen to be part of the mission. Miata was meant to go there, too. Clarice, however, didn't want her beloved child to have to kill again, so after pleading General Miria, the latter decided to keep Miata out of this mission.

It took Miata some time to cope with the fact that she would be without her mother for a while, but she still had her father, so in the end it was alright. The evening before Clarice's departure Miata had prepared fruit tea with sugar as well as _Donauwelle_ for her parents. The three of them enjoyed it together. It should be the last time, however.

The next morning we departed. As long as she could see us, Miata stood at the town's gates to see us off. It was a tearful depart, but surprisingly the one to cry was Clarice and not her daughter.

After two straight days of walk we reached our destination – an amount of Yoma that basically looked like a swarm of flies from afar. I was not able to even guess their numbers. Still, it had to be done, so we engaged them. We nearly had mobilized all the warriors and still it was a struggle that, even today, would lack comparison.

After nearly twenty hours of sending body parts flying, finally the last dull sound of a Yoma's dead body falling to the ground ended it all. At first glance, we had no losses ourselves, but...

Due to the uncountable sources of Yoki that those monsters had spammed the area with, we were unable to keep track of our comrades and their movements. But then, as we finally became able to use our senses again, there was one Yoki missing. Clarice's.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes

_DISCLAIMER:_

Claymore, in its entirety, belongs to Norihiro Yagi

Everything I did with the characters of Claymore belongs to me

* * *

The room was silent. Even the crackling of the fire, that suddenly had something menacing about it, was gone for a moment. Tabitha downed her third Gin that evening. She felt uneasy to the bone. What she had told Miria and Jacob until then was nothing out of the ordinary. A warrior dying was nothing special. Still, the story was not over then.

Not giving Jacob time to react to the fact that her glass was empty, she refilled it herself. Miria mustered her best friends face with militarily precision. She knew the story about Miata and the hell she had to have been through. Still, she didn't know everything. She knew Tabitha long enough to be able to tell if she was telling the truth, altering the truth, extending the truth – or just giving parts of it. And she felt, that, deep inside Tabitha's very soul, there were memories buried that haunted her around the third of October.

After Tabitha had refilled her glass, the pain in her chest suddenly appeared again. The pain she occasionally had felt during the months before. To drown it, she drank. Way too much. A slight blush already had formed in her face due to the alcohol she had been drinking. To her, it was the only way to forget about the pain in her chest. She did so every year, but at that time it was different. It had started way too early and it had been there way too long. There was only one explanation in Tabitha's mind. An explanation that finally made her speak about _that_ event.

"Are you alright, Lady Tabitha?" Jacob suddenly asked, ripping Tabitha out of her thoughts, her silence and her contemplative gaze. She took another sip to fight the annihilating fire in her chest, before she continued.

* * *

It is nothing, don't bother. It is just the memories of the past that are getting to me.

As I said, we had lost Clarice. Before we had even started to search for her corpse, before all of us had really become aware of it, Miata burst into my mind. Clarice's greatest fear had become reality: the loss of her mother, the person she blindly trusted. What would happen to her now? How would she cope with it? Would she even be able to cope with it? At that moment, I thought, that the worst thing to happen would be her, awakening. Thinking about it now, I would like to kick myself around for being so blind.

I stood there, staring onto the ground, envisioning one hellish scenario after another. A slap brought me back. Before me there was Clare. She grabbed my shoulders and tried to shake me awake. She said something like: "Think about _her_ after we _confirmed_ that Clarice is dead!" That really got me back to my senses. It even filled me with a faint hope. The hope, that our senses still were to blurred, still to overloaded with the many Yoki that had been there. Maybe we just couldn't sense her, I thought.

Half an hour later we found her corpse. Around it there lay Yoma, hacked to bits to a degree, that guessing their numbers was sheer impossible. She herself was cut down beyond recognition. For a moment I was not able to tell if the corpse even was a warrior. Still, the remainders of her hand held her sword bravely, as if she had been fighting to the last ounce of life left in her dying body. "She just didn't want to die," were Clare's words. "She wanted to live for her daughter, to be able to protect her forever."

* * *

A tear began to roll down Tabitha's cheek. All the guilt she thought to have brought upon herself suddenly started to sting every inch of her body. It was a bad addition to the pain in her chest. She downed her fourth Gin.

Jacob was about to refill her glass, as Miria, worriedly flourishing, said to Jacob: "She has had enough."

Tabitha grabbed Miria's flourishing arm, pushed it down, and stated: "That, my dear Miria, is my decision."

A worried gaze met Tabitha's, as Miria quietly said: "You are drinking way too much lately. What is wrong? You can tell me!"

"I'm about to do so," was all that Miria got as an answer.

* * *

We had made a bier out of our capes and wood for Clarice. That way, we carried her back to Rabona. Even though she had never been a strong warrior, even though the most of us didn't knew her closely, she was one of us. Even the heaven seemed to cry for her.

As we neared the gates of Rabona, I could already feel Miata. She was waiting at the entrance. There was an unbearable worry in her Yoki – she couldn't sense her mother. The closer we came, the uneasier Miata got. As she finally could see us, she ran towards us, around us, through us. But the one she frantically was looking for wasn't there.

The most of us stared to the ground, only a few were able to look straight forward. I was one of them. Until I saw Miata, that was. I collapsed. As Miata was about to run past of me another time, I grabbed her, hugged her, and started to cry. She had known it the moment she had sensed the first glimpse of us. Her beloved mother was dead. It was October, the third. And it rained.

* * *

During these words Tabitha's face had turned wet completely. She had sniffed and sobbed all the time. Miria hugged her in comfort and Tabitha thankfully dug her face into her friend's chest. She compassionately let her finger slide over Tabitha's hair over and over again, an expression of deepest love in her face. "It's okay, Tabitha-honey," she kept saying with a voice so soft to make rocks melt.

Jacob just sat there. Out of the three of them he felt the most uneasy. He saw Tabitha in a condition that he didn't know of her. She drank and she cried, over a story, that was very common to warriors like her. He was not so sure if he wanted to know, what else would come. Still, he had promised his Lady to keep in mind, whatever she would say. There was no way he could disappoint her! He had not done so in the past forty years and he had absolutely no intentions of ever changing that.

After a while Tabitha had calmed down. Miria was drying her face with a handkerchief, a present she had gotten from Tabitha a long time before. It made Tabitha smile to see, that Miria was still using it.

"Do you still want to continue?" a caring Miria asked her.

"Of course," Tabitha answered. Ignoring Miria's protest she downed her fifth Gin.

* * *

Miata was a shadow of her former self. Understandable, giving the fact that the only one she ever really was able to rely on had left her. Her foster-father gave his best to comfort her, but in the end he needed as much comfort as his daughter herself.

He soon started to drown is sorrow in alcohol. A lot of it. He lost his job and most of his friends in no time. The money Clarice had saved in her short time in the Military lasted for about a year. Without Miata he would have become a homeless lazar in no time. Miata, however, entered the military in order to earn her and her father a living. That worked, for a while.

Until that one day that I will never be able to forget. That day that I will never be able to forgive myself for. That day I doomed Miata for the following five years.

By coincidence I saw her bathing in the river close to Rabona, together with her father. That was, what it looked like from afar. I was about to turn around and go to another place to bathe myself, but then I looked again. And again. I did not want to believe the scene that I saw. I started to walk towards them, hurry towards them, ran towards them. A few meters away from them I stopped.

The scene that I saw I will never forget. There is no way I will ever see something as crushing as that again. He was raping her. He had his hands at her neck and was raping her. He was yelling at her: "That is for killing mommy, bitch!"

I heard Miata apologize to him. She cried, she sobbed and whimpered. I could just stand there like a pillar of salt. The moment Miata noticed me, she just said: "It's okay. Papa is sad. It's okay."

Even though she was violated, even though she was undergoing a pain beyond everything that I had ever felt, even though her face was overrun with tears, she still smilingly defended his actions.

At that moment everything I knew vanished in an instant. The man in front of me was raping a girl, but the girl was defending the one she thought to be her father who loved her.

Should I kill him? Kill the only one she had left, the one she still defended despite him violating her, who he is meant to protect? Should I let him live? Let him continue? Let her keep the only one she still loved?

My inside was smashed to bits. No logic that I was able to use worked anymore. And in the end, I was the monster. I could have prevented her. I could have given her another chance, a chance to start anew. But, no matter how hard I thought about it, I just could not take away her father from her, because she was still defending him.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes

_DISCLAIMER:_

Claymore, in its entirety, belongs to Norihiro Yagi

Everything I did with the characters of Claymore belongs to me

* * *

The sixth Gin went down Tabitha's throat. To her it was the only way to extinguish her burning chest. It didn't work well, though. Tears were streaming her face again, as she took a deep breath to concentrate.

That was no easy task, though. She had dug out a story that was buried insider her soul for a whole human's life's length. The guilt she had brought upon herself at that day had waned as time went by, but it came back the moment she started to share her own, personal memories about Miata's life.

It was common knowledge, that Miata as well as her father had suffered from Clarice's death a lot, but Tabitha was the first one to see what happened between the two of them. But even though she saw it with her own eyes, heard Miata's cries with her own ears, she could not interfere, because Miata still loved her father, despite him being more of a monster than most Yoma.

She sniffed, before declaring her guilt to her listeners: "I was there. I did nothing. I couldn't! Miata... what poor Miata had to live through... it's all my fault!"

She dug her face into Miria's chest again. Miria was shocked. She knew about Miata's pain from the loss of her foster-mother, but that was the first time she heard about _when_ her father started to treat Miata like that. She hugged Tabitha with all her might, bent her head forwards to rest her right cheek upon Tabitha's head, ground her teeth and closed her eyes. She had been close to Miata all that time and yet she had not noticed a damn thing.

"Dummy," she winced, "why haven't you told me earlier? "

"I couldn't," Tabitha cried. "I couldn't."

Jacob was hit hard. Everything made sense then. Sure, he had heard stories of sorrow, stories of forgo, stories of pain and all the like. He was inured to stories like that. Still, even though he had never gotten to know her, he felt a great pain in his hearth for Miata. And even if it had left him cold, the sight of his Ladies would have gotten the better of him.

He was no one to cry, he had undergone and heard way enough things to cope with almost everything. In addition to that, he was not just a man who cared for his Ladies, he was a servant of excellent skills and professionalism. He quickly refilled Tabitha's empty glass as well as Miria's empty glass. He himself still had a sip or two of his drink left.

Then a memory of the past came back to him. His favorite Ladies wouldn't stop crying and he had no real idea what to do about that, but a memory of his father gave him the right idea. Out of his left trouser pocket he pulled an harmonica, a present he had gotten from his father.

His father was a seaman who had visited nearly every spot of the world they lived on. After the Organization's downfall the existence of the mainland soon had become general knowledge. It took roughly a year for the first missions to find it to start. Jacob's father was one of the people who signed up for such a mission. Money was rare as well as well paid jobs. He had no real intention to travel the world, but he had a family to feed, so had had taken a job as a sailor. Roughly 3000 Beras a month was way more than the cost of a steer, so it was enough to feed his small family.

The sea thought him many things. Playing the harmonica was one of them. Whenever he was with his family again, he played all the new tracks he had learned during his journeys. One of them was remembered by Jacob all the time.

He started to play it for his Ladies. His play told a story about a boy who went to the sea. He was only thirteen years old, abandoned his parents and fifteen siblings, just to feel the liberty of the sea. His first assignment was on a coal tug, before he signed up for travels around the whole world.

Bit by bit Miria and Tabitha were calmed by their butler's play. Still they remained in their position. Being that close to each other used to be the best they had many years before. Sweet memories of it started to flood their minds.

For a while only the sad sounds of Jacob's harmonica were filling the room. The rain that was rippling at the window was accentuating the sentiment. Miria arose her head from its position, put her index under Tabitha's chin and gently pushed it upwards for their gazes to meet. She then let her hand glide around Tabitha's neck, pulled her face towards her own and smothered every last bit of Tabitha's crying in the first kiss for thirty years.

To Tabitha that kiss was salvation. For a long time she bore a guilt so great that she couldn't bear it. Then she had finally decided to tell the most important people in her life about it. It was like the weight of the world leaving her shoulders, as Miria kissed her.

As their lips parted, the both of them opened their eyes again. Tabitha's silver eyes were met by another pair of silver eyes that showed a love great enough to bless every last human on the world.

"It is not your fault," Miria's gentle voice whispered to Tabitha. "None of the decision options you had absolutely were the right ones. No one would have been able to make the right decision. You are _not_ to blame for it, Tabitha-honey."

A wide smile filled Tabitha's face as she heard that. She couldn't help herself but feel happy. She still thought of herself as the one to blame, but the fact that Miria did not blame her was sheer happiness to Tabitha. Even the pain in her chest was close to being forgotten by her.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too," she was answered.

Jacob had ended his play. Even though he was absorbed by his own music, he still had an open ear for his Ladies – and therefore their confession to each other. A thing they had not done for more than thirty years.

Tabitha took another sip of her Gin. She still had the rest of the story to tell.

* * *

Miata acted like a normal girl all the time. She never gave away even the slightest idea of how she was being treated by her father. She loved him, after all, and knew, what would have happened to him if someone had been to find out about it.

To me, however, it was the hardest time in my life. Forget the war in the north, forget being cut down by the one I loved more than anything else, forget the nearly hopeless fight against the Organization, forget having to tell Miata about her mother's fate. I had rather endured all of them together. Life doesn't always go smoothly, however.

I saw Miata's broken soul. She smiled, she laughed, she did stupid things, like all the girls of her age did. To anyone she would have looked like a normal girl in her teens. Not to me. I saw it. It was faint and small, hidden and protected, but it was in her eyes. A pain, forceful enough to impale the world. It looked like she herself didn't want it to be there. It looked, like she just wanted to love her father with all her might. She knew that the way he treated her was wrong. She knew that he was a bad guy. Still, she gave him everything she had. Even though she was the one to suffer the most, she cared about her father who had lost his one and only love. She just could not see him being sad – and therefore bravely endured everything he did to her.

I talked to her a lot during that time. I hoped to find a weak point in her love to her father. Even though it was painful to her, even though it was embarrassing to her, even though she felt like an useless object all the time, she still believed that she gave her father happiness. To her it was okay what he did to her. She felt herself responsible for her mother's death because she had not been there to help. She accepted her father's way of treating her as chastisement for her responsibility for her mother's death. In the end, there was nothing I could do. I was the weak one, in the end.

Five years she had to endure all this. Five years I had to endure all this. To my surprise I was the one who broke down. After drowning all those thoughts again, I ran into Clare by coincidence. She had just returned from a mission, as she had told me. I flung my arms around her neck, started to cry and told her everything.

Just seconds after I had finished, my jaw broke from Clare's punch. Without a word she left. I knew what her punch was meant to tell me. At that moment I suddenly realized that my decision was wrong. I should have killed that bastard on the spot.

The next morning his beheaded corpse was found in the house he and Miata used to live. Miata and Clare were nowhere to be found. We never heard of them again.

I hope, that the two of them are still alive somewhere. I hope, that Clare gave Miata all the love that she was able to. And I hope, that, if I ever am to meet Miata again, she will be able to forgive me. Forgive me for having made her undergo the hell she was in.

* * *

After Tabitha had finished, Jacob arose. He had gotten into a formal mood. He heaved his glass and said to his Ladies, especially to Tabitha: "Let us toast. Let us toast to the hope of Miata having found someone to truly love her. Let us toast to Clare, who I barely know, who has saved her. And, last, but not least, let us toast to you, Lady Tabitha, who finally was able to tell us about an event you never wanted your tongue to tell."

Miria and Tabitha arose, too. "Cheers," the three of them enthusiastically shouted together, as their glasses met.

* * *

The sun shone bright. Not a single cloud was to be seen. Still, Miria was in a very sad mood. Solely she was walking the walkways of the graveyard of Rabona. To her left and her right there were many graves that had a claymore as a gravestone. In front of one of them she stopped, turning towards it.

The gravestone's symbol consisted of three vertical lines, the one in the middle being about twice as long as the other two, who were crossed in the middle by a horizontal line.

It had been three years since Tabitha's death. Ever since the burial Miria had come to visit her best friend's grave every day.

* * *

Jacob was watching Miria from afar. He knew that she didn't want to have anyone around her whenever she was close to Tabitha's remainders. Miria looked though on the outside, but since her loved one had died, her insides were nothing but ruins.

Jacob remembered the night of Tabitha's death well. It was the night she had told them about Miata. Suddenly a cough attack overcame her. It made her suffocate.

Later on Miria had told him the reason for Tabitha's sudden death. A warrior basically doesn't age. However, that is only what it looks like. In fact, warriors do age. Very slowly, that is. Still, sooner or later, their intestines speed of aging increases lethally. And that was what happened to Tabitha.

Jacob had, of course, written down every last word of the story Tabitha had told. It still was his beloved duty to fulfill his Ladies wishes, after all.

* * *

'I will always keep you in mind, my dear. I will always love you to the extend of my heart. And I will never forget what you have told me. I love you.'

* * *

Author's notes:

Thank you all for reading this story. To me, it was a nice diversion to the epic work I am writing. The idea for this story popped into my mind, as I was walking around in Dresden, the city that I live in and love. Tunes of Yiruma were accompanying me. To me, it was a way to get even with the wrong turn that my family life had taken. Still, Miata had it worse. But I thought that a fate like this was befitting her and I hope to have written her and her story well.

Also thanks to the two who have reviewed it. Feedback keeps an artist's work alive!

Stefan


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